I LIBR7\RV OF CONGRESS. IK 



Urap. ^,oii!iti5l!l ^'o. 



I UNITED STATES OF AMKUICA 



RALPH ELMWOOD, 



RALPH ELMWOOD: 



A POEM. 



BY 



JOHN HENRY VOSBURG. 




^o^kth^h 



PHILADELPHIA: ^ 
CLAXTON, REMSEN <& HAFFEI,FINGER, 

Nos. 624, 626, AND 628 Market Street. 
.1874. 






Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1874, by 

J. H. VOSBURG, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



COLLINS, PRINTER. 




RALPH ELMWOOD. 



'T^O-DAY have Alfred Morion and Edith Hart 
been wed, 

And in the little village church the sacred rites were 
said ; 

Here, standing on her father's porch,- we see the 
gothic spire 

That draws a flash of glory from the sunset's dying 
fire. 

Grouped round with shadow-echoes, trees, the pray- 
ers of Nature stand, 

And western winds are murmuring sweet tales of 
fairy land. 

On one side is the garden, where all hues the flowers 
wear 

2 O 



lo RALPH ELMWOOD. • 

The sun can paint, all odors breathe, that southern 
breezes bear. 

Here, twinkling through a mist of leaves, the red ripe 
cherries gleam, 

To right a knoll where trees rejoice in the sun's last 
full-eyed beam ; 

In front the lawn is greenly spread to where a high 
bank falls ; 

A meadow stretches, tree-embossed, to the river's 
leafy walls ; 

There winds the Susquehanna, in soft shadows trea- 
suring 

The beauties that the groves and sky upon its surface 
fling; 

Short-curving, and so close embowered, it glimmers 
here and there 

Like verdure-cinctured lakes; afar to left there 
sparkles fair 

A village, and this side are fields of grain and mea- 
dows green ; 

To right the flashing river in a straighter course is 
seen ; 

A bridge shuts out its farthest view, scarce seen, and 
on the shore 



RALPH ELMWOOD. II 

A mill, and we can faintly hear the mill-dam's mel- 
lowed roar. 

The glories of the sunset fade along the hill-tops now, 
And twilight's fairer children come to deck Night's 

regal brow ; 
She reigns and scatters gems of dew, and from her 

silver bowl 
And diamond goblets sprinkles light to cheer Earth's 

fainting soul. 
The wedding-guests that lounged about the garden 

or the lawn, 
Or on the porch, have fled the dark, and in the house 

are gone ; 
The lamps invite us to exchange the night-enveloped 

scene 
For the talk, the mirth, and music of festivity's de- 
mesne. 

Here are gathered men and women, old and young, 

from far and near, — 
Some think marriage food for laughter, others greet 

it with a tear ; 
Some sterile natures blossom not with either fear or 

hope ; 



12 RALPH ELMIVOOD. 

To some experience shows the road of life an easy- 
slope : 

But all, we hope, wish blessings on the happy, fair, 
and young. 

Whose union gives each mind a theme, a goal to every 
tongue. 

The bride, we call her beautiful, but do her not the 
wrong 

To try to limn her features with the pencil of our 
song; 

As a star dissolves in moonlight, so does she seem 
melting now 

In a true and holy love whose radiance halos round 
her brow ; 

The bridegroom sits beside her, and his kindled face 
reveals 

The opening of love's heaven at the breaking of the 
seals ; 

The golden gate of life to him this day has set ajar. 

And the future glows, a flaming sun, that was a twink- 
ling star. 

Talk rises and increases, like a brooklet fed by 
springs, 



RALPH ELM WO on. 1 3 

That swells and broadens as it runs, and ever louder 
sings ; 

The laughter breaks in ripples or cascades, and mu- 
sic's sound 

Puts life and motion into feet that chase the graces 
round. 

Now mirth awakes and antics in droll games, but 
some, from age, 

Or a sober mood look on, or in a quiet talk engage. 

Let 's join the group that gathers round the village 
clergyman. 

Whose mind has power with vision clear the page of 
truth to scan. 

Here's Esther, Alfred's sister, and her soft eyes' lov- 
ing power 

Her spirit's wealth diffuses like the perfume of a 
flower : 

And near her sits Ralph Elmwood, who looks neither 
man nor boy. 

The fitful light that fires his eye seems keenest grief 
or joy; 

A soul uncertain of its aim, that often mounts and 
soars, 

2* 



1 4 RALPH EL MIVO OD. 

Then tempest-driven, hovers where volcanic passion 

roars. 
Note this old woman, in whose face life's pen has 

written scold, 
In lines half anger, and half grief, by patience not 

controlled, — 
You know reproof, that should be but a gentle sum- 
mer shower. 
From her would burst with thunder and the tempest's 

unchecked power, — 
Or this one, Edith's mother, with a heavenward 

yearning face 
That shows life's ripples silvered with the foam of 

spirit grace. 

Ralph. 

It may be marriages are made in heaven, 
But they are often very ill-contrived, — 
Because of poor material perhaps. 

Old Woman. 

No doubt of that; but what can you expect? 
These giddy girls and boys think marriage like 
A play or dance; they will learn better in time. 



RALPH ELMWOOD, 
Madam Hart. 

If it seems like a play or dance to them, 

'Tis pleasant; why not let them think so still? 

Old Woman. 

Because there's something serious to be done — 
A dreadful future to prepare for. Life 
That's danced away is not made fit for heaven. 

Madam Hart. 

Why should the young make life a serious thing 
Before its sorrows touch them, or of this. 
The happiest scene of earthly life to most, 
And if in contemplation happier 
Than in fruition, need we try to spoil 
The joy that, although fanciful, is real ? 

Pastor. 

We cannot always know the real in life. 
What seems but fancy sometimes is the truth. 
Clearer than mental vision can behold ; 
For reason's ken is narrow, rimmed by hills 
Of manifest reality, while truth 



15 



l6 RALPH ELMWOOD. 

Is bounded but by God. The sky is near, 

So near us that we breathe it constantly, 

Though only in blue distance evident. 

All hopes and aspirations are of truth. 

So they be pure ; all pleasures, too, are real. 

Which on that rock are founded. Let us then 

Reject no blossom Heaven sends to us 

Because it seems not dyed in reason's hues. 

The practical would strip our Eden clear 

Of flowers and fruits, and leave but common grains. 

Ralph. 

Yes ; and dig up the tree of life, and that 
Of knowledge, because casting too much shade. 
And plant potatoes in their place ; or dam 
And stagnate life's clear-flowing stream to turn 
A mill to grind their corn, which they will use 
In place of fruits and manna heaven-sent. 

Old Woman. 

I don't know what you mean ; but this I know. 
Not many reach the kingdom of the blest. 



RALPH EL MWO OB. 1 7 

Ralph. 

Shut np your high-walled kingdom, then, and guard 
With flaming swords ; we you reject will make 
Elsewhere our own Confederacy of Love. 

MaOam Hart. 
Ralph ! Ralph ! do not make light of sacred things I 

Pastor. 

Kindle your beacon fires of truth, but not 
With sacred fuel : do not stand too near, 
Or they will dazzle rather than reveal. 

Esther. 
Miss Link will sing for us. 

Ralph. 

Then I must help her stuff the dragon's jaws. 
What do you name your song ? 

Miss Link. 
'Tis called 



1 8 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

THE FLIGHT OF LOVE. 

The mists of the mountain, 
The foam of the fountain, 

The leaves, and the snow. 
The birds and the flowers. 
The sunshiny hours, 

They come and they go ; 
And love will vanish like the day. 

Love's coming or going 
Surpasses our knowing, 

But what if he go ? 
Let's hope for his coming 
While merrily humming 

This song we all know. 
Next Spring the birds tu ill fly this way. 

Ralph. 

I doubt not Alfred holds your ditty false ; 
He thinks love like a star, whose song, begun 
Upon creation's morning, rings forever. 

Alfred. 
We cast no shadow with the midday sun 
Clear overhead. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 19 

Miss Link. 
Ralph, sing us something merry ! 

Esther. 
Do, Ralph ! 

Ralph. 
Well, I will give you 

A PASTORAL. 

'Twas evening, and my work was done ; 

She took her pail to milk the cow ; 
I stood and gazed at the setting sun ; 

She sang a song like a bird on a bough. 
Which put a^n end to my dreaming. 

I watched her wade through the tangled grass, 
And wished that I were a clover-head. 

To kiss the foot of the red-cheeked lass. 
And then to die on a grassy bed, 
My life going out in fragrance. 

She sat her down on the milking stool. 

Two white streams flowed her soft hands through. 



20 RALPH ELMWOOD. » 

And I thought as she milked, that every pull 
Was at my heart-strings, and she drew 
My soul out through her fingers. 

My feet were moved, I knew not how ; 

I went, and to the maid I said, 
*^ You've filled your pail, you've drained the cow, 

You've drained my heart, and filled my head ;" 
She smiled, and then I kissed her. 

The cow was scared, and kicked over the pail ; 

The maiden sadly looked at me ; 
" The milk is spilled ; so your love will fail ! " 

Then I, '* But you love's fount will be, 
We shall never want a heartful." 

Old Woman. 
Such flowers grow in your Eden, I suppose, 

Ralph. 

No, that's an earthly song. I'll have no mirth 
Within my Paradise, — it is too gross. 

Madam Hart. 
Will you abolish weddings too ? 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 21 

Ralph. 

O, no ! But truly loving souls are raised 
High above mirthful influences, as heaven 
Seems far and stable over fickle clouds. 

Esther. 

You doubt that love can dwell in humble hearts, 
Ringed round with common scenes ? 

Ralph. 

I know it grows like flowers, and fruits, and grains, 
The rarest in best-cultivated soils. 

Madam Hart. 

I'm sure the purest, most enduring love 

May dwell with those whose culture is but small. 

So true religion has prepared the heart. 

Pastor. 

The Father gives his portion unto each, 
And, be it more or less, 'tis all he needs. 
Love may take difl'erent hues in diverse climes. 
3 



22 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 



Whatever is of spirit born is pure, 

But takes a color from the things of earth. 

dear sunlight shows no tints, but gives a hue 

To earthly things, according to their kind ; 

So human love is but an alchemy 

That makes each show his colors like a prism. 

Esther. 

Is all so white in spirit-land ? I dread 
The thought of dwelling in a hueless realm, 
Where we must stalk like spectres, moonlight pale, 
Not even casting shadows. 

Pastor. 

Each realm may have its own hues differing. 
The perfect state will be all glorious. 
Perhaps with colors to suit spirit eyes 
That can behold a brightness unconceived. 

Old Woman. 
'Tis time to go ! 

Several. 
Yes, we must go ! 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 23 

Ralph. 
One song from Esther ere we part. 

Several. 
Yes, do sing ! 

Esther. 
Then I will sing for you a 

GOOD-NIGHT SONG. 

The day is passed, like a deed of power, 

And like its memory starlight glows, 
And, with the moon, the festive hour 

Is fading now to a happy close. 
Good-night ! 
The morrow will bring some new delight. 

Let memory garner whatever of gay 
Or true the evening time has brought, 

And may the light of another day 

Make of each dream-bud a blossomed thought ! 
Good-night ! 

May your slumbers be sweet, and your visions bright ! 



24 RALPH ELM WOOD. • 

May echoes of each pleasing song 

Your ears have heard, ring through your souls 
Melodiously the whole night long, 

Till a waking note the robin trolls. 
Good-night ! 
May bird-songs wake you with morning's light ! 

May fairest sprites, from golden bowls, 
Bedew you with the chrism of love. 

And dream-flowers blossom all over your souls 
Like stars on the azure curtain above. 
Good-night ! 

May angels guard you till morning's light ! 



II. 



The maiden morn had made the landscape gay 
With floods of sunshine from the fount of day. 
When Esther greeted earth with purer light 
From eyes whence gushed in streams her spirit's 
might. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 25 

And fell on nature like the diamond dew. 
She softly left the house, and, passing through 
The gate, moved gently o'er the swarded ground, 
Through the ranked orchard, on to a tree-topped 

mound. 
Where hickory, and oak, and butternut 
Branched burning sunshine out, and closely shut 
Her in retirement's sweet and sacred goal. 
As dropping eyelids hide a bashful soul. 
But on one side the river's gentle face 
Smiled through the parted trunks, and a rounded 

space, 
Teaf-bordered, let the farther hills be seen, 
The hazy distance purpling their soft green. 
Here Esther sat, and let her soul drink rills 
Of song the birds poured out through silvery bills. 
Or watched them deftly flitting here and there. 
Happily anxious with their nestling's care. 

Now she escapes the shadow's sweet embrace, 
And flashes onward into open space. 
She passes by the soft-eyed cows, who raise 
Their heads from feeding, and with tender gaze 
Look blessings on her, whose kind heart they know 

3* 



26 RALPH ELM WOOD. • 

As rich and sweet as their own udders' flow; 

The meek sheep whitely dot the pasture near, 

The frisky lambs too ignorant for fear. 

A fence now bars her path at the hillside's base, 

Which Esther climbs with ease and maiden grace, 

And drops like an autumn leaf on the lower side ; 

She crosses through tall grass the meadow wide; 

The brown bees hum around the clover-beds, 

The meadow-lilies bow their lovely heads, 

The lark springs up and heavenward hurls his song, 

The air sighs love-words as she moves along. 

She gains a thicket, where a little brook 
Here meets the river — a small bowered nook. 
Where clematis and wild-grape overgrow 
The willows, and the streamlet's tinkling flow 
Makes melody that soothes the soul to rest ; 
She sinks on mother Earth's dear loving breast, 
Opens a gilded volume she has brought. 
And drinks refreshment from the poet's thought. 
O happy poet ! Could your spirit know 
How thus its beams on her sweet nature flow. 
Making new flowers in that rich soil upspring, 
A diamond blessing such a thought would bring. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 27 

To charm thy troubles, if still bound to earth, 
And if the grave has given thee a new birth. 
Yet still shut out from bliss for following here 
Phantoms of darkness ; like the holy tear 
Of penitence, — the choicest gift to heaven — 
The thoughts thy lays to this sweet maid have given 
Must make the warder the gemmed gate unbar, 
And flash thee welcome like a falling star. 

Ralph Elmwood from the hayfield saw the maid 

When yielded by the grove's reluctant shade, — 

With longing eyes pursued her farther course. 

And felt her draw him with resistless force. 

He followed, and his memory wandered back 

Along his life's yet dim and goalless track, 

And saw where her loved hand had planted flowers. 

Ere yet he knew a touch of manhood's powers — 

A ten years' boy — he felt the might of love 

At sight of her within his bosom move, 

And rend him till his heart's blood fluttering flew 

Into his face, and he apart withdrew. 

All trembling with the flame he could not quell 

Till Poesie had brought her magic spell. 



28 RALPH ELMWOOD. • 

His was no frivolous soul, though oft his mood 
Compelled him from the narrow path of good 
To sport in dangerous ways, and court the powers 
Less spirits meet with terror in dark hours. 

He reached the sanctuary of the maid. 
But paused awhile before he dared invade 
Her solitude ; then to his heart he spoke, 
*' There is no privacy in love," and broke 
The spell of awe, and drew the boughs aside, 
And looked ; — the book she read is at her side, 
Fallen from her willess hand with ruffled leaves ; 
Her head leans on her hand, her bosom heaves 
With zephyrs wafted from the land of sleep. 
His spirit springs to meet hers in a deep 
And eager glance that pierces through the lids 
That veil her soul's sweet outlooks ; Love forbids 
A longer tarrying in the land of dreams : 
Her soul returns in haste ; its ardent beams 
Roll up the blue-veined curtains from her eyes. 
And their two spirits meet ; timid surprise 
Hers shows at first, but, gaining her full height, 
Ralph sees no anger in its calm pure light. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 29 

The two have left the bower, and now attain 
The river's bank ; here, fastened by a chain 
To alder-bushes, is a little boat. 
In which they seat themselves, and smoothly float 
Along the river's clear and buoyant plane, 
On which the sunlight sparkles like a rain. 
The drops rebounding, spattering their dazed eyes. 
Ralph, with his arms' full force now swiftly plies 
The oars, now resting, lets the gentle tide 
Move the boat slowly on, while o'er its side 
They watch the ripples o'er the surface run, 
Or see the fish flash back a watered sun. 
Among small willowy islands now they go. 
And pass to where the river's swifter flow. 
More shallow, dashes with a fretful roar. 
Too strong the current now to stem with oar, 
So Ralph leaps out, and tugging at the chain, 
Draws on the boat, until once more they gain 
A placid deep, then, climbing in, they glide 
With thrilling swiftness down the rapid tide. 

Black clouds are moving up the darkened sky. 
Grumbling and glancing wrath ; the shadows fly 
Across the land, till all the scene is dim : 



30 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Large drops prelude the shower's murmured hymn 
Which soon blends sweetly with the thunder's bass. 
The pair have reached an isle, and with swift pace 
Move to the centre, where a large elm stands. 
The islet's sovereign ; all the circling strands 
Are bowered with smaller trees embraced by vines. 
And here, in one of Love's most sacred shrines, 
At the elm's foot, they sit, and while the rain 
Drums on the sounding sward a soothing strain. 
And the winds with it weave a symphony, 
A chord of love runs through all tremblingly, — 
An answering note ; then, with a rich, clear swell, 
A fuU-souled harmony antiphonal. 

The rain had ceased, and hand-in-hand the twain 
Had reached their boat, the river crossed again. 
They parted, for their ways home differed ; he 
Soon paused upon a knoll where he could see 
Her course whose spirit in his bosom burned : 
Just ere she gained her home she stopped and turned. 
And saw Ralph standing in a grove's deep shade ; 
The sun triumphantly his power displayed, 
Far in the east retreating thunder lowed, 
And with its banded dyes a rainbow glowed. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 



31 



III. 

How life and motion meet 

And surge and clash in the city street, 

With the patter and clatter of feet, 

The rattling, and rolling, and rumbling of wheels, 

In one unceasing roar that peals, 

Anear discordantly, 

Yet from afar with a linked harmony ; 

Anear with the jangling noise of war, 

And yet, to a dweller on a star 

Who had ears to hear a sound so far. 

The voice of our humanity 

Would rise a polished melody. 

A joyful thing it is to know 

That the finest sounds the farthest go. 

And all the tones that afar are heard 

Are sweet as the notes of a warbling bird. 

What a wealth of metal, wood, and stone. 
And brick, and glass, together thrown 
By human hands, to make the walls 
That hem our path, the costly halls 



32 RALPH ELMIVOOD. ^ 

Of trade and commerce that, with whirl 
Unceasing, draw, and then outhurl 
The gathered treasures of every clime, 
The spoils of all the fields of time. 
There are marts where everything is sold 
That man will give in exchange for gold. 

What a hurry, and worry, and clamor, and press, 

And what diverse styles of mien and dress 

In this wonderful human wilderness ! 

Here big and little, sad and gay, 

Are moving on in earnest or play : 

There are short and tall, and lean and stout. 

And their voices scale from a sigh to a shout. 

There are people from country, and people of town, 

Manners of gentle, and dandy, and clown; 

Here totters old age, with life perplext, 

And childhood wishes, and wonders "What next?" 

There are crooked, and lame, and feeble, and blind, 

And thieves and beggars of every kind : 

Here you may purchase an apple or song ; 

There peddlers and bootblacks are sauntering along ; 

Policemen loiter, and newsboys shout. 

And women look sweet and preachers devout ; 



RALPH ELM WO on. 33 

There are men with devilish instruments, 
And we send to their mills more curses than cents; 
There are persons in fashion's most costly attire, 
And wretches too squalid for vice to hire ; 
There are faces white, pink, brown, and black, 
And yellow, and mottled, — demoniac, 
Stupid, and average, and beaming with mind, 
Fair and ugly, and harsh and kind ; 
There are beautiful faces in which we read 
With worshipping eyes love's heavenly creed, — 
There are others whose vicious depths repel 
The shuddering gaze like a glimpse of hell ; 
Each one from the book of life is a leaf, 
A record of passion from joy to grief; 
O let us ponder these pages well ! 
There is no truth that they do not tell. 

Call this a garden of men, 
Where flowers and weeds together grow ! 

Or name it humanity's den, 
Where to share the prey the beasts all go,^ 
The lion, and jackal, and dog, and fox; 
Be it carcass of hare, or sheep, or ox, 
4 



34 RALPH ELM WOOD. « 

The lion still claims the lion's share, 
But the fox, with his sanctimonious air, 
Contrives to steal enough for his fill, — 
The others may gnaw the bones, if they will. 

Yet here are the proud results of mind, 

And the waves of restless humanity grind 

The pebbles till each reveals its worth, 

Rounded and freed from superfluous earth. 

Shake grains together, the heaviest rise 

Above the lesser in weight and size. 

As the moon and stars' united light 

Makes all things clear on a cloudless night. 

So do the mingled rays of soul 

Illumine more the larger whole. 

To the noblest truths man is not dead. 

And the heart claims more than the body or head : 

Earth-sprung, but growing heavenward, higher 

Than all else he builds, see the sacred spire I 

And topping all sounds that upward swell, 

Is the peal of the worship-calling bell. 

Who leads the universal choir, 

Knows that all notes towards bliss aspire. 

And no doubt we shall all, in a higher prime, 

Find what now seem harsh a perfect chime. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 

Along the street of the city now 
See Alfred pass ; his imlined brow, 
His manful lip and eye serene, 
His upright form, and earnest mien, 
Show one who finds this life a plain 
For grazing, not for fear's weak pain ; 
Who here seeks food for his working soul 
While passing on to a higher goal. 
The waves of this turbulent human sea, 
He views with firm tranquillity ; 
Securely towards his haven he rides, 
Helped onwards by the waves and tides. 
He sees no sight, and hears no sound, 
Of all that surge and clamor round, 
But lets his mind serenely rove 
In flowery scenes of hope and love. 
He glances upward — the loving blue 
Meets his with a gaze so pure and true. 
It seems to reproach man's hurry and strife 
With hints of a calmer, happier life. 
Among the wheels he crosses now. 
Some one he meets demands a bow ; 
He turns again, and under his feet 
He hears the pulse of an engine beat ; 



35 



36 RAL PH EL MIVO OD. 

He climbs a stair, and enters a room 
Where sunlight strives with city gloom. 

Here Alfred fits with words the thought 
In the tumult of life to the surface brought ; 
Each unknown thing Time drops in his flight, 
He strives to show whether wrong or right ; 
He dares to lift the future's veil, 
Advancing time to greet or assail ; 
He judges men's acts to praise or blame, 
And illumines thought with fancy's flame ; 
He echoes the popular speech less crude, 
His we as the voice of the multitude. 

When the task of the passing day is wrought. 

Homeward he follows his eager thought. 

Where joy has spread a glorious feast : 

And the stream of love has so increased 

That, the waste of its overflow to prevent, 

A third, a tiny vessel, is sent. 

And Alfred is happy with wife and child. 

To all that is now reconciled 

By the boon whose rainbow-arch seems given 

To bridge his hopes from earth to heaven. 



J^A L PH EL MWO OD. 37 

IV. 

ALFRED TO RALPH. 

Yes, come to the city, if you will, 

And chase your destiny, that still 

Must fly your wishes till you make tame 

Your spirit, — then she will be the same. 

Some post there is in the age's strife 

For you to fight your battle of life. 

You wish a place among lords of song 

To whom our praise and love belong : 

If you to them could humbly apply, 

Your prayer, perhaps, they might not deny : 

But lackeys guard the halls of fame, 

And admit not those of unknown name. 

If your dress is like many entered before, 

And so well known, they may open the door ; 

And gold will dazzle, and favor bribe 

The partly-developed monkey tribe. 

If your soul is free from fear and doubt, 
You may soar and sing your heart-full out, 



38 RALPH ELMWOOD. 

You'll be shot at by sportsmen critics, who aim 

At whatever flies as proper game. 

As your melody jars or delights his mood, 

Each will hail your notes as bad or good. 

One who is trained to like the song 

Of the thrush will declare the bobolink's wrong; 

One who admires the spiral flight 

Of the hawk will vow the lark's not right; 

And the ape will chatter, in wisest way. 

Of the parrot, because his plumage is gay. 

'Twould hurt you, no doubt, to see the flowers 

Your heart has nourished in holiest hours 

Trampled upon by the hoofs of swine, — 

But even that grief can be made divine. 

Time and labor will surely bring 

A sceptre to every true-born king : 

All words of truth and beauty, the days 

To come will set to notes of praise. 

Whether your reward will come late or soon, 

In manhood's sun, or age's moon. 

No one can tell, ngr if from the bread 

You cast on the waters your heart will be fed. 

Yet it may be best to scatter, although 

On earth you reap not what yoij sow. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 39 

Obey the inner voice, and trust 

The Power who rules, that what is just 

Will be your portion, and what you give 

As truth requires shall die or live. 

When desire is raging to be free. 

And seeks the outlet poesy. 

Restrain not, or fierce unrest will tear 

Your struggling soul, like a smothered prayer. 

And the passion which you to song deny 

Will be spent in sin, or in anguish die. 



Alfred one evening, in a gilded fane 

Of music, bared his parched soul to the rain 

Of sweet sounds poured from voice and instrument, 

That to a tale of love their spell h:.d lent. 

He gazes on a scene both weird and fair : 

The lights on gay parterres of fashion glare. 

And thrilling eyes flash back the joyous rays 

Of melody with more enchanting blaze. 

Upon the stage a varied scene unwinds 

The mazes of a plot that deftly binds 



40 RALPH ELMWOOD. 

The flowers of passion, which ask music's tone 
Their subtle tints of meaning to make known. 
The various, thickly-strewn orchestral notes 
Mix with the gushings of melodious throats. 
Through solo, dialogue, and chorus, told 
With Italy's round words of vowelled gold. 

The tale was of a maid who loved so well 
That, by this passion heightened, even the hell 
Of jealousy was smoothed, and, cleared from guilt. 
An altar for self-sacrifice she built. 
She died that he she loved might know a higher 
Delight than she could give ; that, from the fire 
In which her heart consumed, the dove of peace 
Might spring, and from all fears give him release. 
The music, moaning with her dying voice. 
Changed when that ceased, as if it would rejoice 
In love's pure triumph. Alfred met a glance, 
Thrown from above, that held his soul in trance 
Wherein the future showed an unguessed page. 
The eyes, till then unknown, were from the stage 
Just turned, and in their misty heaven he saw 
The scene's whole soul impressed ; they seemed to 
draw 



RALPH ELMIVOOD. 41 

Him toward a higher life than yet he knew : — ■ 
'Twas but a flash, yet in it he saw, through 
Those eyes, a boon the future held for him, 
But shadowed by a sorrow vague and dim. 

And soon a cloud of woe obscures his soul, 

The mist of death that hides from sight its goal. 

The wife Avho queened his hopes has gone away, 

Taking the joy-dyes from the light of day. 

When she heard Death's step near, and on her face 

His taper's pale light made its awful trace. 

She knew that through the darkness she must go. 

And yearning towards Alfred's look of woe, 

She said ; ''Dear, tarry in this world of strife. 

While I begin a new and happier life. 

A voice speaks to my soul that love has done 

Through me its work for you; its course is run 

For earth, and you need more than I can give 

From henceforth ; but my love shall live 

In that celestial realm to which I go. 

And in a purer atmosphere will grow, 

And thus keep pace with yours; and when you come 

Its brightness shall content you in that home." 



42 



RA L PH ELM WO OD. 



VI. 



Here rolls the ocean, so boundless and glorious, 

Sounding its idyls and pseans victorious. 

Moving forever in awful immensity, 

Voicing its vague, never-resting intensity : 

Green blends with blue, earth's and heaven's flor- 

idity, 
White foam above hints of starlight's lucidity. 

Warding the sun's raining lances unfailingly ; 
Telling the doom of its victims bewailingly ; 
Dimpling with pleasure when soft showers are patter- 
ing; 
Frowning in anger when wild winds are scattering : 
Showing in calm hours a smiling benevolence. 
Roused into anger a fearful malevolence : 
When clouds are hiding the stars madly wondering, 
Deep from below to the deep above thundering, — 
Clouds calling down to the waves they are darkening, 
Waves to their wild words on tiptoe are hearkening ; 
Cloud-cutting flashes the heavens are lightening. 
Phosphoric gleams the rough waters are brightening ; 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 43 

Wildly the sea-stars, the white ships, are wandering, 
Where their bright brothers on high are gone pon- 

dring : 
Mocking the sky above, wave on wave following, 
Into such concaves the ocean is hollowing : 
Tidings from sea to sky swift winds are carrying, 
Shouting their messages, eager, untarrying ; 
Cloud-hurling tempests through awed heavens fulmi- 
nate. 
Till their fierce passions in silent rage culminate. 

Loving the land with a passion exuberant. 
Kissing its feet that in capes are protuberant ; 
Fondling it sometimes in tenderness tearfully, 
Mouthing it over in happiness cheerfully : 
Begging affection with accents pathetical. 
Singing her passion in numbers poetical ; 
Murmuring her fondness in tones deep and tremu- 
lous : * 
Knowing the sun's love for earth ever emulous; 
Still of the truth of her lover too curious. 
Roused into jealousy thoughtlessly furious : 
Shrieking with rage to her bright rival needlessly. 
Chiding her darling for faithlessness heedlessly ; 



44 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Frightened winds rush o'er their courses aerial, 
Clouds, in dark sadness, weep showers funereal. 
Towards her sweet children, the islands so beautiful. 
Gentle and passionate, fickle and dutiful; 
On her fond bosom their heads softly pillowing. 
With her moist lips tender luUabys billowing. 

Round the calm shores crowd the waves wild and 

clamorous. 
Raging or sobbing in mood madly amorous ; 
Seeking the moon with an impulse quotidian. 
Rising to gaze on her glory meridian. 
Following after, howe'er her steps deviate, 
Hoping her calm smile their woes may alleviate; 
Fondly aspiring, in love and in gratitude. 
Towards what they deem the bright source of beati- 
tude. 

Ever the rivers are hurrying greedily. 
Wishing to share the sea's wider joys speedily: 
Fretting at boundaries narrow and sinuous. 
Telling their great hopes in murmurs continuous ; 
Still of the joys of the future too credulous. 
Chasing their wishes with energy sedulous ; 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 

Trees bending over, in beauty adorable, 
Whisper reproof of unrest so deplorable. 

Glorious sea ! whether peaceful or tragical. 
Still is thy spell o'er us wondrously magical; 
Awed, we adore thy great beauty seraphical; 
Thrilling, we hearken thy epic so graphical, — 
Listen thy cadences, lyric, habitual, 
Grand as the swell of a sky-soaring ritual. 
Answering the stars in their courses ethereal, 
Speaking to earth with a tone magisterial. 
Telling the story of times immemorial ; 
Heavenward rings thy voice mediatorial. 
Hymning the hopes of a future millennial. 
Gladdening our hearts with a beauty perennial ; 
Still thou art ever a faithful chronologer. 
Voice of the future, a truthful astrologer ; 
Had we but ears for thy sentient vernacular, 
Much could we learn from thy sayings oracular ; 
Writ on thy surface, a volume historical. 
Teaches great lessons with words metaphorical. 
Reign thou forever, in glory monarchical ! 
Be thy sway owned as a power hierarchical ! 
5 



45 



46 RALPH RLMWOOD. 

Man may adore, but with heart unregenerate, 
Humbled and trembling thy beauty must venerate ! 

South of Manhattan and its lower bay, 

Where restless Ocean owns the Land's firm sway. 

The Land out-reaches a caressing arm, 

To soothe her tumults, and her fears to charm. 

The arm is Sandy Hook; the shore's breast we 

Call Neversink, on which the sighing Sea 

Is fain her loving head, the bay, to rest. 

While smiles and murmurs her deep joy attest. 

Northward the steepled city lies ; below. 
Each side the Narrows, a fort warns a foe 
That iron Death here keeps a watchful lair ; 
There's Staten Island with its villas fair. 
There Coney, and there stretch Long Island's shores; 
Nearer, the bay, where steam, and winds, and oars 
Move vessels to and fro ; in front the sea 
With ships and billows roving fair and free. 
Southward is Long Branch ; from this sightly place 
We see the river Shrewsbury in its grace 
Curve through the fields for many lovely miles, 
Where petted Nature grateful promise smiles. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 47 

Here on the wooded promontory stands 

The long-walled lighthouse, whose two upraised 

hands 
Bear lamps that hail the mariner afar, 
And guide him duly as the polar star. 
Along the beach gay pleasure-followers stray, 
And bathers with embracing billows play. 

Here by the sea has Alfred come to sip 
Reviving draughts from nature's cup, and dip 
In her renewing fountain. Years have passed 
Since with black grief his skies were overcast. 
And his life-blood was chilled. He late has been 
So near Death's door that he has looked within, 
And caught the hue of ghosts, and noxious airs 
From that dread realm have poisoned him like cares, 
And racked his frame as with the power of age. 
Hope and despair their furious war yet wage 
In his torn breast, and still his wounded soul 
Moans for the balm of love to make it whole. 
He lives because his life-work is not done, 
Nor yet the place beyond death's boundary won. 
Where souls he longs to know his own may greet 
And welcome gladly to their blissful seat. 



48 RALPH ELMWOOD. 

One other tie binds him to life, the string 
Of love for his one child, a winsome thing, 
Merry and thoughtful both, — a clinging heart 
That draws the sweet from all with native art. 

Now, hand-in-hand, he and the maiden rove, 
And taste the placid beauty of a grove 
Upon the hill : the murmurs of the sea 
Come soft as hummings of a wandering bee : 
They sit, and Alfred's roving thought along 
The child's talk runs like a scarce-heeded song. 

Viola. 
You are tired, papa. Here's a better seat. 
Oh ! isn't it beautiful ! There is some moss; 
How soft and downy ! Yonder are some flowers ! 
I'll run and get them. Did the fairies make 
These flowers ? 



Alfred. 



I cannot tell. 



Viola. 
You told me once how fairies made the flowers. 
And painted them with sunshine. Wasn't it true? 
Why can't I see the fairies? 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Alfred. 

Everything beautiful you'll see some time, 
If you are good enough. 

Viola. 
Then I will try to be so very good. 
Are any fairies in this grove ? 

Alfred. 

I do not know. 

Viola. 

Tell me a story, papa. There's a kiss. 
Tell me a funny story. Don't that bird 
Sing sweetly ! If I could but catch him now, 
And put him in a cage ! 

Alfred. 
What will you have ; a story of a mermaid ? 

Viola. 

Yes, if you please. Mermaids live in the sea. 
And comb their long hair all the time, and look 
In glasses, and sing sweetly, do they not ? 
5* 



49 



to RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Alfred. 

Yes, but some of them once lived in a lake, 
And so their queen was called 

LACROCINA. 

By the side of a lake did a little maid dwell. 
In a neat little house, in a green grassy dell, 

'Twas the merry and sweet Tantalina; 
In the lake lived the mermaids who loved the child 
well. 

And the fairest was Queen Lacrocina. 

By the lake stood the child on a still summer's night, 
And she looked at the moon's face so round and so 
white, 

Away down in the clear water shining ; 
And she thought, ''If the moon were a boat new and 
bright. 

All of silver, with blue silken lining, 

"With some white swans to draw it, and I could but 

ride 
All about, with a fairy to sit by my side — 



RALPH ELMWOOD. ^I 

One not larger than my baby brother — 
Who would sing me sweet songs as we moved o'er 
the tide, 

O, I'd love her as much as my mother !" 

Then she threw a small stone in the lake, and the face 
Of the moon seemed to laugh, but the laughter gave 
place 

To a smile so delightful, she thought it 
Must be some wondrous fairy so tender a grace 

And so loving could ever have taught it. 

Then she heard a deep voice, like a terrible snore 
('Twas a gnome that lived there), not far off, on the 
shore. 

And it said in harsh tones, ''Tantalina ! 
Hum-er-rum ! hum-er-rum ! don't throw stones any 
more 

At the palace of Queen Lacrocina !" 

Running home out of breath, to her mother she said, 
*' What is that in the lake with a voice that I dread ? 

And, do tell me, who is Lacrocina?" 
''It is only the frogs, silly child — go to bed !" 

Of strange things that night dreamed Tantalina. 



52 RALPH EL M IVO OD. 

Some time after she went to the lake, and the moon 
Was not round as before, and the same dreadful 
tune 

She soon heard in the bushes begin a- 
gain its ''Hum, hum-er-rum ! the mermaid will 
come soon, 

If you call for the queen, Lacrocina." 

She was scared, but she called on the mermaiden's 

name, 
And it seemed that the moon to the surface soon 
came — 

'Twas a boat all of silver, and in it 
Was a mermaid, whose gems 'twould take long but 
to name. 

And the girl never thought to begin it. 

It was drawn by white swans, and about their necks 

tied 
Were the bells tinkling gaily as on they did glide. 

Said the mermaiden, '' Dear Tantalina, 
Now jump into the boat, and we'll take a nice ride 

To the home of our queen, Lacrocina." 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 53 

It was charming to ride o'er the waters so clear, 
And the bells and the mermaiden's sweet voice to 
hear ; 

Tantalina said, *' Oh ! how delightful !" 
Soon they came where a whirlpool's roar filled her 
with fear. 

And the wild surging waters looked frightful. 

Then a cloak made of fish-scales the mermaiden 

■ threw 
O'er the child, and a hood for her head there was 
too, 

'Twas to keep out the water, she told her; 
She was glad, for if she should get wet she well 
knew 

That her mother would certainly scold her. 

They went down, away down, and around and 

around. 
And the waters were roaring with deafening sound, 

And the scared little girl was kept busy 
Holding on to the boat ; when they came to the 
ground 

She declared she was tired, and so dizzy. 



54 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

They were close by a door on the floor of the lake, 
And the mermaid crept out like a great long-tailed 
snake, 

Said the child to herself, *' O, how funny ! 
But her face is as sweet as a piece of plum-cake. 

And her smile is much sweeter than honey." 

Then the door was thrown open, and both hurried 

in, 
When 'twas shut fast, to keep out the waters' great 
din ; 

Said the guide, *^ Here we are, Tantalina ! 
You may hang up your cloak on this white-fish's 
fin. 

Then we'll go and see Queen Lacrocina." 

They now came to a door made of great fishes' 

bones, 
Tied with eel-skins, and studded with beautiful 
stones. 

And it creaked on its hinges like thunder, 
When the child saw a sight, and she heard such 
strange tones. 

That they made her half crazy with wonder. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 5- 

For there stretched out before her a splendid large 

hall, 
And rocks sparkling with gems made on each side a 
wall, 

All of diamonds glittered the ceiling ; 
'Twas so glorious, the child thought she surely should 
fall. 

She had such a strange, rapturous feeling. 

Jack-o' lanterns, like those we sometimes see in bogs, 
Flitted round ; and queer gnomes that were just like 
great frogs. 

And looking amazingly knowing. 
Were perched up on rock shelves, as though sitting 
on logs. 

Every one on a hollow shell blowing. 

There were mermaids of all sizes sitting around 
In a circle, their long black hair flowing unbound ; 

On one side was the queen with her daughter ; 
They were all hard at work, carving shells on the 
ground, 

With their long tails in great tubs of water. 



5 6 RALPH ELMIVOOD. 

Then the queen mermaid said, ''We are all workers 

here; 
To be useful is every one's duty, that's clear, 

And a mermaid's not much of a dancer. 
Bring our sister a tub, with a chair for this dear — 

No, a tubful of water w'n't answer !" 

Then she told such strange stories, the girl laughed 

and cried. 
And those tales to good children she told ere she 
died — 

Even when she had grown old and steady. 
Soon she heard a deep voice from the ground at her 
side, 

And it said in loud tones, '' Supper's ready !" 

Then a table rose up in the centre, and there 
Was a very droll supper, but dainty, and rare, — 

There were clams, and all sorts of nice fishes. 
And boiled lobster, and fruits most delicious and fair. 

And they used pretty clam-shells for dishes. 

When the supper was over, the queen mermaid said, 
"Bring my carriage ! 'Tis time that this child was 
in bed." 



RALPH ELMWOOD, 57 

Then she took home the glad Tantalina; 
And the girl thanked the mermaid, and till she was 
dead 

Thought with love of good Queen Lacrocina. 

Viola. 

That's a good story ! Thank you, papa dear. 
Look yonder ! Is not that a fairy ? No ; 
But she is sweet enough. 

A turning path had given to their view 
A woman's form; a glance which Alfred knew 
Met his, and, like a long-sought blessing, gave 
A tidal swell to life's receding wave. 
That spirit's radiance he had felt before, 
When it and music's voice one message bore ; 
Its greeting then unknown, half understood 
Now, promised much of wished-for future good. 

The lady was a votary of the art 
That can the soul's own lineaments impart 
To clay and stone, and save the fleeting forms 
Of grace and beauty from time's wasting storms. 
6 



5 8 RALPH EL MIVO OD. 

She worked here, where the animating real 
Helped brain and hands attain the soul's ideal. 
Alfred oft came to her, and watched her mould 
Her thought till finished form its beauty told. 
Life budded soon with him, and blossoming 
Anon, he hoped for fruits that time should bring. 



VII. 

Two works throw over Alfred's soul a spell. 
And seem a thought he has not reached to tell. 
.One pictures an old tear-distilling tale, 
And shows a dog whose great love did not fail. 
Though by his master's rash, suspecting hand 
Unjustly slain ; bleeding upon the sand 
He lies, and in his trustful, upturned face 
A look not far from pity keeps its place, 
As pain were triumphed over : the other shows 
A Christian martyr, in whose features glows 
The silvery light of peace, the starry hue 
Of faith's exalted triumph shining through 



59 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 

The clouds of agony ; there is no pride, — 
No pity even, — naught that seems to chide 
Man's cruelty; the soul is raised above 
The mists of passion on the hight of love. 



Alfred. 

Love flowing out through wounds of piercing wrong 
It is the lesson taught by word and deed 
Long ages gone, and since illustrated 
In flames and all devices of fierce hate. 
I feel, but cannot all accept this truth. 



Clara. 

Let spirit fully apprehend, then mind 
Will firmly grasp, and pass it to the heart, 
Where, at the base of being, it will be 
The whole soul's ordinance for will and act. 



Alfred. 

Must the hard lesson still by all be conned ? 
Must each one learn it by experience ? 



6o RALPH ELMWOOD. 

Clara. 

It matters not how, so it be well learned. 
While imperfection is, must suffering be ; 
Love's sacred lore is soonest taught by pain ; 
The holy thus lights the obscure. To some, 
The bleeding Christ points out the way to God. 

Alfred. • 

Must spirit crush out heart, the beautiful 
Yield to the good, till there be no more room 
For gladness in our beings while earth-bound ? 

Clara. 

Real beauty is the blossom of the good ; 
The fruit is joy, — by that we know the tree. 

Alfred. 

But this corporeal frame, the instrument 
Of spirit, mind, and heart (the trinity 
Of soul), must be kept holy, how? 



RALPH ELMIVOOD. 6 1 

Clara. 
Let nothing through the body touch the soul 
But what is for its good ; let spirit light 
Illumine all, then all is purified. 

Alfred. 
This seems a new evangel, yet most true. 
But why these tortured forms, these suffering saints, 
This binding law ? 

Clara. 
The soul, in low states, grows through suffering; 
Freedom and excellence are reached by law. 
Looking within, we see the need of strife. 
Of conquest, and of anguish to this end. 

Alfred. 
But art regards the beautiful alone. 

Clara. 
No, art beholds truth through the beautiful. 
Its radiance, and teaches men to see 
The good through this, its purest medium, 
6* 



62 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Alfred. 
What special truth does your art seek to show ? 

Clara. 

That outward lineaments reveal the soul ; 
That men may see how passion fashions them, 
So highest truth and love may be their aim. 

Alfred. 
And what the goal ? 

Clara. 

Art shall lead progress, looking back and forth. 
Without, within, for types and pure ideals, 
Spirit-informed, until, the end attained, 
The perfect form that shows the perfect soul 
Shall be the final glorious Avatar. 




RALPH ELMWOOD. 63 



VIII. 



RALPH TO ESTHER. 

The summer has gone with its roses, Beloved ; 

Light, and color, and warmth are fled ; 
Beauty went out with the lamps of autumn, 

And Earth lies cold on her wintry bed, 
Sadly wailing, bitterly moaning. 

Of birds, and flowers, and heat bereft; 
But her bosom still holds seeds of comfort, 

And buds, the hopes of spring, are left. 

Beloved, you are far away, 

And here in the turbulent city I dwell. 

Its noisy billows round me swell. 
And gone are joy, and summer, and day. 
But my window high sees a bit of the blue. 

The tender blue, and the polar star ; 
One tells of love, eternal and true. 

One twinkles hope from a realm afar ; — 
And love, and hope, and you are here. 
With memories of the gladsome year. 



64 RALPH ELMIVOOD. 

Many-colored memory holds — 

Like autumn, or the gorgeous folds 

Of clouds above the sunset's glare — 

All that's rich, and all that's fair. 

All that's joyous, sweet, and dear 

In the day and in the year ; 

Boundless love is over all, 

And flows through rifts in the sapphire wall 

Moonlike hope's pure silvery light 

Shows joy eternal, infinite; 

In thee, O rainbow Soul ! all blend, — 

Of memory, love, and hope the end. 



Your sunny being, Beloved, 

Fills the air with warmth and light. 

And the heavens are vocal with gladness, 
Though the birds have taken flight. 
I lie in a trance embalmed with you. 
Yours my spirit tingling through. 
As music soft, or rare perfume 
Floats through a dimly-curtained room. 
The air is a rose-tinted, golden mist, 
Bordered with purest amethyst, 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 65 

Fading in light to the quivering stars 

That pierce the whole with diamond bars : 

Still, and rich, and warm it is, 

The very atmosphere of bliss, — 

Still, but living ; purest soul 

Is the essence of the whole. 

Suffused in liquid joy I lie, 

Thrilling, panting,— could I die, 

I should be part of it, and you— 

All one with the bright, the sweet, the true. 

O purple soul ! O golden heart ! 

scarlet love ! I dwell apart, 

And say to the clay world, Touch me not, 
For Love my blessed soul has got 
Above your highest mountain-peak ; 
But I can hear your dwellers speak, — 
Some bless, some curse, and all seem base 
To whom Love shows her unveiled face. 
Yet, from my gorgeous sunset cloud, 
I'll sing to cheer you, but not loud ; 

1 will sing soft, and sweet, and clear, 
Songs which the loving only shall hear, 

Strains which shall drop on your face like dew,— 
Like starlight smiles across the blue ; — 



66 RALPH ELMIVOOD. 

And you shall dream of Eden again, 

And children shall shout, and women and men 

Look up and pray, who never before 

Knew where to seek for the pearly door. 

But Oh, how long, how long 
Is the vista of the beautiful ! 

How high the mount of song ! 
And my senses are so very dull 
That I scarce can see the toilsome way, 
And I sit in the gloom and cannot pray. 
Stern Art has brought me down from the hight 
Where Love had placed in the arms of Delight, 
And I am sad and cold again ; 
And a line of marble gods and men 
Stretches away to the jewelled fane 
Where the rainbow-garmented Muses reign. 
This is the path my feet must tread, 
Through pools of tears, among ghosts of the dead^ 
Who gibber their warnings of doubt and fate, 
Jealousy, falsehood, envy, and hate ; 
But the marble statues, calm and pale. 
Look, ^'Aspiration cannot fail." 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 67 

The way of the artist's the way of the saint, 
And I must walk it, though bleeding and faint : 
Love holds not, but impels to go 
Through flood and fire, through rain and snow, 
And in fiercest storm and darkest night 
Love can make it a path of delight. 

Away ! I will be happy now. 

I veil Ambition's marble brow. 

And lay the chisel down, and gaze 

On painted Love, with the rosy haze 

Around her glowing form ; her eyes 

Thrill me with burning memories 

Of summer fields, and golden hours. 

And trilling birds, and joy-dyed flowers, — 

The brook, the river, and the wood. 

The sunset, and the purple flood 

Of evening thinned with starry white, 

And you, of all the life and light ! 

Love, my Love forevermore ! 

1 stand on an island, and on each shore 
Beyond are you : one is the strand 

Of memory with golden sand, 



68 RALPH ELMIVOOD. 

And I lie at your feet, and pant with hope ; 

Ruby-pebbled banks upslope 

On the other side, where Eden is. 

And where glow the fruits of perfect bliss. 

And here, in primal innocence, 

Through delicatest nerves of sense, 

Our souls shall blend, and life shall move 

Harmonious to the notes of love. 

sweetest Sweet ! thyself art here. 
With the sunshine of the year \ 
Warmly beam thy rays on me, 
Perfect joy in purity ; 

And my quickened soul, I know. 
True and straight shall upward grow. 
Truth is seen through love alone ; 
In thy clearest soul, my Own, 

1 see my soul, as in thine eye 
Mine outer self floats joyously : 
And seeing thus my soul I see 

Its lack to be good, great, and free; 

But in thy purest spirit air 

It yet shall grow most tall and fair. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 



IX. 



69 



Love grew in Alfred's heart, until he heard 

From crimson lips beloved the golden word 

Of ecstasy. Did he not love before 

One whom he vowed to cherish evermore ? 

And is not love eternal ? Love is true, 

It cannot lie, and it is fresh and new, 

Though forms that held it sleep beneath the sod. 

But love unerring comes direct from God, 

And enters chosen souls ; if it depart, 

'Tis plain there was a void within the heart — 

Some part not all transformed with it — for when 

A soul is filled it never thirsts again. 

Alfred and Ralph watched for time's hand to mark, 
With shine and shadow, one day to embark 
On wedlock's tide, and in quaternion 
Of bliss let love's glad breezes waft them on. 
Alfred's great love was strong, and calm, and high- 
A pine that neared and pointed toward the sky. 
Cheerfully green in winter as in spring, 
But with a tender, solemn murmuring, 
7 



JO RALPH ELMIVOOD. ^ 

Feeling the vast space 'twixt the heavens and earth, 
How tall soe'er it grew. Ralph's had its birth 
From many seeds, and was a thicket wild, — 
Young elms and willows, with clematis mild 
And grape-vines overgrowing ; underneath, 
Patches of sweet grass for the tender teeth 
Of lambs and rabbits ; flowers bloom here and there, 
Birds flit and sing, and elfin paths there are 
Through tangled brushwood ; fauns and fairies play, 
Where no unreverent foot should ever stray. 
This for the summer ; but the heavens send 
Not only light and showers, but gales that rend 
The frost-nipt leaves from shuddering twigs, and 

throw 
O'er all bleak ruin's mantle of cold snow. 

The day nears fast, blown on by longing sighs ; 
At Esther's home the glad festivities 
To crown the marriage rites that bless the four 
Shall launch the new year from a golden shore. 
Meantime, in Ralph's breast expectation burns 
So fiercely, its fomenting essence turns 
Hope into doubt ; he thinks, *' It cannot be 
Such ecstasy is ever meant for me." 



RALPH EL MWO OD. 7 \ 

Fool ! all God's gifts are free, and hope is real, 

Faith-based; to those who will not think, but feel. 

He knows not that along the wire of love 

His stronger soul has power hers to move, 

Through perfect sympathy, however far. 

And with its influence to bless or mar. 

It had been thus since first in girlhood's hour, 

She felt that gleaming soul's o'erwhelming power; 

His moods of joy and sadness — even those 

Of changing seasons — were her friends or foes, 

And, ignorant of the cause, she often wept 

Or thrilled for him, unknowing, and while she slept 

His spirit guided hers. An evil mood — 

For he had such— could not o'ercome the good 

In her, but woman's clearer moral sense 

Made hers in this the stronger influence. 

But now their larger love and strong desire 

His nature make for hers a wasting fire ; 

He sometimes doubts her love, distrusts his fate,— 

His eager, thirsting passion cannot wait. 

And drives her with intoxicating might, 

Staggering and helpless to the gulf of night. 

Ralph, all aflame with love which fear makes pale, 
Clara and Alfred, whom no doubts assail, 



72 RALPH ELMWOOD. • 

Reach Esther's home. That self-same morning found 

Her chamber vacant, and no sight or sound 

Of her is yielded, but a paper placed 

Upon her table, scrawled as if in haste, 

And Ralph reads, seeing burst the flames of hell. 

These searing words, "■ I love you not. Farewell !" 

And she is gone, but why and whither? Maids 
Have reached thick darkness, through temptation's 

shades, 
With rapid foot — no power preventing them, — 
So willess we think Heaven can scarce condemn. 
No nuptials now : three that were to be blest. 
Vow that all other hopes and cares shall rest 
Till she is found, restored, if that may be. 
Or known to sleep from earthly peril free. 

At first Ralph's raging heart roamed every path 
Of hate to find a victim for its wrath ; 
Not of its own will could that soul so true 
Have turned from heaven's purest light, he knew; 
And he would find the tempter, and let flow 
His passion's fury in the cleaving blow 
Or lightning bullet, — for the obvious flood 
To wash out hate for such a wrong is blood. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 73 

Hard, hard it was the scourge of wrath to flee, 

But effort changed his rage to agony. 

Hate drove him to the regions of despair — 

A rayless, voiceless, thick, but living air, 

The essence of all horror, and so dread 

That sheeted ghosts of the unresting dead 

Would have relieved its gloom : he rushed towards 

death, — 
Death quick and violent, with panting breath 
And shrieks for aid. Death kindly took his hand. 
And led him to the border of the land 
Of rest, where he was calmed, and where he met 
Sweet Love, who took him back to life and set 
His feet on her firm rock. Long time he lay 
In the still twilight, waiting the full day 
Of flowing life which soon came with new power 
And holier light to tinge each future hour. 

» 
Now sorrow melts in love ; his bleeding heart 
Would water even the wayside flowers that start 
From seeds of passion, wafted by the winds 
Of lawlessness \ the mist of pity blinds 
His eyes that they see not the hideous form 
Of vice, but far above the raging storm 
7* 



74 RALPH ELM WOOD. • 

His soul darts heart-warm rays to brighten grief, 

And dye the sere, frost-stricken autumn leaf. 

He seeks in squalid city ways the dens 

Of want and guilt, whose wretched denizens 

Have reached, or never risen from the tomb 

Of truth, where love-beams scarcely pierce the gloom. 

He brings to them a sorrow-perfumed air. 

That wakes to blossom every germ of prayer 

In hearts where good has lain unsunned by hope. 

He seeks those higher on the easy slope 

Of degradation ; artificial flies. 

Sharp-hooked, that though like love are painted lies. 

Some that knew not how far they were from truth, 

Ralph touched with purity made sweet by ruth, 

And helped to see the sorrow-gated way, 

Christ-broadened to admit even such as they. 

No fear that he would let a soul defiled 

Touch his and soil it; loving like a child, 

All impulse, scarce could he endure the touch 

Of even finger-tips that brought too much 

Of lower natures through the nerves to his. 

To passive souls in impure air there is 

A tainting power, but love is without fear 

When active, making its own atmosphere. 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 75 

In all the tangled paths through which he strayed 
Ralph sought his lost, but still beloved maid ; 
If even the saddest form he saw were she, 
His love would clothe her in fair purity, 
And set her on his spirit's highest throne. 
Who surely might be his if Heaven's own, 
Redeemed from error, and recalled from woe : 
And he would save, though he must sadly go 
Through tedious life to bitter death, and far 
Through lightless space to every circling star. 



X. 

RALPH IN THE MEADOWS. 

O love, from the burning heart of day ! 
All hues of beauty are in each ray, 
And each is a kiss that thrills through earth, 
And warms some form of joy to birth. 

O Nature, sweet and loving bride ! 
Again I sit at thy faithful side. 
And gaze upon thy flushing charms. 
Or clasp thee in my longing arms. 



76 ' RALPH ELMWOOD. . 

Ever true and tender thou, 
Though sorrow darken thy pure brow, 
And thou weep, or shiver, sad and drear, 
O'er the glowing coals of the dying year. 
Thy love henceforth shall suffice for me. 
With the worship of star-crowned Poesie. 

beaming Goddess ! once again, 

1 bow within thy sacred fane ; 

My life, my hopes, my soul are thine, — 
Relume me with thy flame divine ! 
Set thy crown of thorns on my bleeding brow, 
And bind me with thy holiest vow ! 

The Bobolink. 
Love, love, love ! 
See the Spring's golden eye 
Beaming love from the sky. 
And the hours. 
Crowned with flowers, 
O'er the fields dancing; 
Music is glancing 
From flower-kissed plain, and from light-sprinkled 

river, 
While ripples of joy through the balmy air quiver. 



RALPH ELM WO OD. 7 7 

Come, come, come ! 
My beautiful, beautiful ! 
All the green earth is dull 
Without love ; 
From above 
Love-rays descending 
With flower-smiles are blending, 
For light is but longing, and color emotion. 
And beauty the waves of love's space-filling ocean. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet ! 
Life has no joy for me 
Without love, without thee. 
Come, my sweet. 
Let us meet ; 
Flitting and trilling. 
Loving and thrilling. 
Pure gems of delight through the ether shall shower, 
And rainbows of glory arch over our bower. 

Ralph. 

Love, love, the song that gladness sings. 
And longing sighs, and sunlight flings, 
That color echoes, birds rehearse, — 
The music of the universe ! 



78 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Again upon my soul returns 

Thy power, and life rekindled burns. 

Ay, let me love with loving skies, 

And sing with all earth's harmonies ! 

The fount of joy is ever full, 

Why should my heart be bare and dull ? 

No warmth or light is ever lost. 

The loving soul no gifts exhaust ; 

Then let my best be freely given. 

Renewed with better still from heaven. 

Viola. 
O, here you are ! I've looked for you so long. 

Ralph. 
What do you want ? 

Viola. 
Dinner is almost ready; we're to have 
Such a nice pudding. Aren't you glad of that? 

Ralph. 
Do you not think that there are better things 
Than puddings in the world ? 



RALPH ELM WOOD. 79 

Viola. 
When we are hungry they are good enough. 

Ralph. 
But here are things that I like better now. 

Viola. 
O, yes : I dearly love the birds and flowers. 
Do hear that bobolink ; how sweet he sings ! 
I heard a whole tree full of them one day ; 
All sang at once, and scattered music like 
A rain of diamonds on a silver roof, 
Aunt Esther said. 

Ralph. 

Ah! 

Viola. 
Why do you look so sad ? It is so bright, 
You should be happy ; everything else is. 

Ralph. 
We can be sad sometimes with too much sweet. 
Did eating candy never make you sick? 



8o RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Viola. 
Why, yes ; I did not think of that. But now 
I want you to look happy. Shall I tell 
A story that I learned to-day ? 

Ralph. 
Yes, if you will, while we walk towards home. 

Viola. 
It is about 

THE FAIRY'S FLOWER. 

By the river's side, in a cozy bower, 
Grew the fairy's beautiful flower. 

It was her daughter, the fairy said. 
And to give it life her heart had bled. 

Her side one day a cruel thorn 

Had pierced, and thus the flower was born 

Of the stream that flowed from the frightful wound, 
And warmed and quickened the cold, damp ground. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 8l 

So much of her life was in the flower 

That the fairy languished for many an hour ; 

But the blossom grew so wondrous fair 
That the winds told of it everywhere ; 

And all the birds beneath the skies 
Came and looked on it with longing eyes, 

And filled with music the fragrant grove, 
Trying to win the flower's love; 

The thrush, the bobolink, and redbreast 
Vied with each other, and sang their best. 

Beauty she gave them, and perfume, too. 
But not her heart of honey-dew ; 

And when their flight too closely neared 
Her petals closed, for their touch she feared ; 

It would soil her brightness, and no rain. 
She knew, could wash her pure again. 
8 



82 RALPH ELM WOOD. 

A humming-bird came on busy wing ; 
Humble he was, for he could not sing. 

Murmuring tenderly, straight he goes 
To the flower, whose petals do not close 

To the green- and ruby-coated elf, 

Who loves her more than he does himself, 

And has learned so well love's sacred lore. 
He can reach and not harm her being's core. 

She opens her heart to his delicate bill. 
And of richest nectar he drinks his fill. 



Ralph. 

The daintiest touches wake divinest tones ; 
God speaks the clearest with his softest voice. 
Once more I go to seek the lost, my way 
Illumined now by hope from cloudless skies. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 



XI. 



83 



Mad with power that wakes our wonder, swift with 

clatter, clash, and thunder 
Rush the steam-inspired, life-bearing cars along the 

guiding rail ; 
'Tis the iron law that binds them, that so narrowly 

confines them 
Keeps off Death who hovers round and round with 

face so fiercely pale ; 
For this speed almost outflies him, and this daring 

power defies him, 
And the lightnings, once his vassals, now are servile 

unto man. 
Their old master calmly scorning, of his plans they 

give quick warning, — 
He'll outwit and be revenged upon his rival, if he 

can. 

Calm and tender, as half dreaming, fleeting smiles 

across them beaming. 
Nature's swiftly-changing features greet with love our 

earnest gaze ; 



84 RAL PII EL MWO OD. 

• 

Over river, hill, and meadow, sparkling light and 
flitting shadow 

Skip, and melt in purple distance with the skies en- 
chanted haze. 

Unrestrained, creative fancy, with its daring necro- 
mancy, 

Builds fair cottages and villas by each river and each 
brook; 

Sees in all sweet smiling faces, fairies dance in shady 
places. 

Maidens muse, or poets dream in every lonely, bow- 
ered nook. 

But the engine's fiendish screaming scares the shapes 
of fancy's dreaming, 

For the noisy hosts of science are imagination's foes. 

But poetic song and story shall endure in undimmed 
glory, 

For the beautiful lives with the soul, and goes where'er 
it goes. 

Howthis grasping tyrant science chains earth's mighty 

struggling lions, 
Breaking up their forest jungles, making pathways 

through their lair ; 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 85 

Sends the lightnings through the ocean, trusts the 

raging wave's devotion, 
Even ventures to invade the reahiis of still uncon- 

quered air. 
Finding earth for his ambition quite too narrow, man's 

volition 
Pierces every secret cavern of the boundless universe, 
O'er the circumscribing real leaps his unrestrained 

ideal. 
Clutches thunderbolts of knowledge, fearing no ex- 
ploding curse ; 
Far beyond the bourne material still aspires his flight 

ethereal — 
Not alone by trammelled sense will he laboriously 

plod — 
O'er the bounds of faith careering, into nature keenly 

peering. 
Or his own soul closely searching, he dares to try to 

find out God. 
What he seeks he must discover, Truth repels no ear- 
nest lover, 
As God liveth, so his essence is in every soul re- 
vealed ; 



86 RALPH ELM WOOD. ^ 

Of the omnipresent Spirit something we must each 
inherit 

Which can hear his lightest tones as though his voice 
in thunder pealed. 

Each soul-nerve with Him is thrilling, and, uncon- 
sciously or willing, 

Each but feels or moves as he directs who is the 
guiding brain : 

This material condition, helped or marred by our 
volition. 

Makes this life a rainbow, dyed with hues of plea- 
sure and of pain. 

But the soul in future ages shall pass on to higher 
stages. 

Sphered in ever purer substance, wheeling nearer to 
the sun. 

Less and less shall know of sadness, more and more 
shall feel of gladness. 

Till the perfect state is reached where it, and joy, 
and God are one. 

While we journey here in blindness, soul may lighten 

soul with kindness. 
Till rays of all combined shall make the world with 

gladness bright ; 



J^A L PH ELMWO OD. 8 7 

Hands fraternal hands are grasping, lovers thrill with 

dearer clasping, — 
Souls commune through the material, by touch, and 

sound, and sight : 
And when this one life is over, we shall meet each 

friend and lover, — 
Fairer forms and finer senses then shall look, and 

speak, and kiss ; 
We will journey toward perfection, smoothing out sad 

recollection, — 
An eternity of progress and of ever-growing bliss. 

Steam-borne rides Ralph across the furrowed land, 
And sees Love wave to him a beckoning hand. 
Far towards the western wave his course has been, 
Still driven by the impetuous soul within, 
And seeking his one pearl which he knew not 
If earth or some more blessed sphere had got. 
Alfred has sent these words on lightning wings, 
'* Come, she is foimd," and hope again upsprings 
And floods the arid desert of his heart. 
While withered plants of life re-quickened start. 

The treacherous Night now curtains o'er the scene, 
And grim, vindictive Death behind her screen 



SS RALPH ELM WOOD. 

Lays warily his snares ; the rushing train, 
With all its load, down the steep rocks amain 
He hurls to swift destruction, and calls fire 
To aid in wreaking his fierce hate's desire 
On forms clutched by relentless agony, 
The while he dances in unpitying glee. 



XII. 

Weak, maimed from conflict with man's direful foe, 
Ralph lies, while life's returning waters flow 
And move his stranded hopes. Beside his bed, 
A trinal guard against returning dread, 
Clara, and Alfred, and his Esther stand, 
This wan as if just sent from shadow-land. 

Ralph. 

Reason, and life, and you returned at once ; 
This pain, these crippled limbs the final price. 
And with all former anguish not too much. 



RALPH ELMWOOD. 89 

Esther. 
And knowest thou for what ? 

Ralph. 
I look in thy true eyes, and feel thee safe, 
And know that will has yielded in my soul 
To see thee happy and rejoice, although 
More worthy arms than mine enfold thy bliss. 

Esther. 
My brother, speak ! 

Alfred. 
We found her in a maniac's cell. The hour 
That did you harm sent reason back to her, 
But with sharp torture and a quaking shriek ; 
And after-illness brought her near to death. 
She knows not how or why she left her home. 
Or what befell till madness rolled away. 

Esther. 
But this I know; the darkness in thy soul 
That shadowed mine is gone, and both are clear, 



90 RALPH ELMIVOOD. ^ 

And mine says firmly what it said before, 

I love thee, love thee, Ralph, — have ever loved. 

And canst thou take a wanderer, I am thine. 

Ralph. 
I give nor take not, for our souls are one, — 
Mine purified, its mist dispelled from thine ; 
Love has been perfected by grief and pain. 

Clara. 
You find that suffering profits, then ? 

Ralph. 

It profits, and it ever will, to learn 
The truth through any medium of good. 

Alfred. 
But love being perfect, now we may rejoice. 

Ralph. 

Yes, for we know at length our souls are free, 
For we have suffered and have conquered self. 



RALPH ELMIVOOD. ^i 

Clara. 
When was that conquest gained by you ? 

Ralph. 
When everything was yielded up to truth ; 
When my soul asked no more, but Avas content 
To rest and grow in that eternal light, 
Knowing that all its needs will be supplied. 

Alfred. 
We take this truth with us to sunniest skies—- 
To Italy, my bride and I, and hope 
Through Art to find an unoppressed ideal. 

Clara. 
One sweetest lesson is already learned, 
We think; that undimmed bliss may come through 

love, 
Its medium, if it be purified 
By any means : but this we must believe,— 
The everlasting is the only real. 



sOi * ■; 








^li 



1^ 






»: •*-' 






|:Vl^^ ^ 



